Winter's Burning Light
by Musingsage
Summary: In the aftermath of events in D.C, the ex-Winter Soldier seeks to regain his identity. Before he can seek out his old friend, Steve Rogers, however he meets a woman who offers him a chance at what he wants most: Revenge. Meanwhile, America and Canada devise a plan to strike back at HYDRA. I may split it into two stories if it becomes unmanageable. Fem!America, important OC.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is set after the _Winter Soldier_ by about 3 days. This story replaces an earlier story, _The Hunt for Hydra_, and takes place in the same reality as several other stories (including _Reunion_) that I've written, however while they maybe mentioned, this story is a stand-alone. Due to the nature of the story, I will be introducing some OCs, some as important characters with carefully chosen names, and others who serve their purpose and disappear, or die (they're my red-shirts for those of you familiar with Star Trek). Juggling two story lines that intersect indirectly is going to be interesting.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Below the city, tucked between the subway stations, shadows darted about the poorly lit tunnels. Left over and closed off stations provided a warren of passages and holes under New York City. Some of them felt familiar to the Winter Soldier. Here, below the city he could avoid populated places and detection by HYDRA and that pair who tried to track him down. Not that he wanted to live down there for long. Between his knowledge of the currently used stations and routes and an inexplicable understanding of the old, he could avoid anyone down there. The darkness suited him, it protected him in ways the light couldn't.

"Why do I know this place? I am really James Barnes?" He whispered, hand brushing against an old sign.

Like everything else down there the sign felt familiar, but as if he looked through someone else's eyes. The memories, what he recalled anyway, belonged to someone else. Perhaps he was that person once, but not anymore.

The soft patter of running feet echoed down the tunnel. He ducked into a crevasse, curious who might venture down into this forgotten place. Whoever running nearby knew a thing or two about moving silently, but by no means an expert. More interesting were the louder, booted feet of people who chased the first pair. Whatever the situation was, it did not involve him. Still, he wondered who pursued who this far below ground. Perhaps police chased a criminal, or criminals wanted to kill a traitor or something else along those lines.

A slender, grey clad figure darted by his crevasse, ducking into another one further down the tunnel. To his surprise, a group of six HYDRA agents rushed past him and the figure a minute later. That caught his attention, especially since he recognized the leader, Kyle Navalny, as a top HYDRA agent sent to recruit or kidnap people of interest to HYDRA. While the man missed him and the figure, he would return to search. The Winter Soldier needed to leave the area before the agent backtracked. Whether or not he learned the quarry's name didn't matter, since it no longer concerned him.

Up a head, the figure exited their crevasse, searching around, a hood concealed their identity. From the silhouette, Navalny pursued a woman of average height. He wondered how long HYDRA chased her, either living on the run kept her fit, or her exercised regularly. The woman started jogging back the way she came, footsteps lighter than before. He approved of her choice; she conserved energy and recovered by jogging and not running outright until necessary. When she neared him, she slowed to a walk, searching the area. How had she noticed him? Or did she think there might be a hidden tunnel she could fit through and escape that way. A sound plan.

"They're going to come back," she whispered. "Whoever you are, you need to get out of here soon."

How did she notice him? Irritated as he was, at least she kept her voice down to reduce the inevitable echoes. Where did she learn how to conceal her presence?

"Fine, do what you want." She darted down the tunnel, but he remained tucked away.

Once she disappeared, he emerged and continued on his way down the tunnels, looking for another familiar spot. That station looked familiar. Climbing on the platform, he followed an impulse and head for a spot by the stairs. Dusting off a mark on the wall, he found a graffiti heart with the words 'Bucky and Sharron'. He supposed he was the 'Bucky' who wrote that so long ago; back in…1932 wasn't it? Who was this Sharron and what happened to her? He wondered if she lived a long and happy life. Other than she existed, he remembered nothing about her and would have continued to forget if he hadn't stumbled across the closed off platform.

More footsteps. Ducking back into the shadows, he saw the gray figure fleeing her HYDRA pursuers. Navalny shot something at her, it wrapped around her legs, knocking her to the ground. Perhaps he should do something, but he wasn't a hero. This wasn't his fit. In all likelihood she was a former HYDRA agent who stole valuable information or was a SHIELD plant. Either way, she deserved her fate.

"Time to stop running girl," Navalny advanced on his prey.

Because of the angle, he missed why rubble launched themselves into the air and set several agents flying. Could the woman have some valuable power and abilities?

"Nice to see the reports were right. Strucker will be pleased when we bring you in."

Silent and undetected, the Soldier crept close enough before tackling Navalny. The next few minutes passed in a blur; his anger took over, a pent up rage that consumed his mind. Nothing matter but hurting the men who hurt him time again. Without a chance to pulverize Pierce, he settled on Navalny and his men. The lambs stood no chance against him. Whatever made him James Barnes winked out long enough for the Winter Soldier to defeat the men. Only the Winter Soldier could defend against what might cause Barnes to hesitate.

"STOP." A woman yelled.

Looking up from the bloody corpses of the HYDRA agents, he prepared to take down this latest threat. To his surprise, some life remained in Navalny, not much though. Nothing could save his life now; he felt sick, for the first time horrified by his ability to inflict harm for the first time in a long while. In a sudden rush, Barnes wrestled control back, his grip stronger now that the danger was eliminated.

Steely eyes pinned him down, "I need him alive for a little longer."

His brow furrowed, but she didn't explain as she knelt next to the dying man. Ready to crush Navalny's windpipe, he watched in fascination as her hand rested on the side of his face and two terrified eyes started up into hers. The ensuing jerking took him by surprise, but he adapted and kept his rock solid hold.

"Please…please…stop…" the HYDRA agent pleaded.

Despite his barely recovered memories and new, but small, sense of morality, he took pleasure in watching Navalny writhe and whimper. The woman now made him very nervous when he realized she had invaded the captive's mind. If she could do that, which explained why Navalny hunted her, what else could she do? Could she invade his mind and rewrite his memories?

Was that HYDRA's plan? But then why hadn't they had her do that before he went rogue and abandoned his handlers? Unless, they wanted her to break her, then have her rewrite people's memories, if not that then against rob their minds of information. For now he had no idea of her ability's limits and extend of its usage.

Then again, this could all be some HYDRA ploy to win his trust. But then why kill their best servant? If she was HYDRA, he would kill her. Someone like her presented a grave danger to the world working for HYDRA. While he didn't give a damn about the world, someone who cared about him also cared about the world. Though, he struggled to understand why that blond man, Captain America, cared about it, he knew that the other did. Something inside begged him not to let Captain America down. That wasn't the best reason to kill someone, but better than he had had in a very long time. But Captain America wouldn't want him to kill her, unless she was HYDRA. For all he knew she legitimately fled from HYDRA, which meant the Captain would want him to keep her safe. Not that he could look after her; but he felt obligated to try. If she wasn't HYDRA that was.

Trying to work this out made his head ache.

Eventually she snapped her hand back as Navalny gave one last gurgling scream. Brown eyes stared lifelessly up at her, terrified and pleading.

To his surprise, she stood up, stumbled over the side and dry heaved. Well, that wasn't the reaction of a HYDRA agent, though she could be a really, really good actress. Still, the nauseous look on her face couldn't be faked. Or maybe it could. He had no idea anymore.

"What did you do?" Somehow he expected her to lie or refuse to tell him.

She swallowed hard, "he had some information I needed."

"What?"

For a moment it looked like she would flee and take it with her, but anything she stripped from Navalny's mind was valuable to him.

"The deployment of HYDRA agents in New York City and what they look like," She shrugged, "Thanks for your help, but I can't miss my train."

He leapt up, taking her by surprise and locking his metal hand about her neck, "Who are you and what did they want? What can you do?" When he grabbed her, he knocked her hood back. Because she could invade someone's mind if she touched them, or so he thought, his metal hand would prevent her from stealing from his. At least he assumed so, he wasn't sure.

Without her hood, he got a good look at her face and searched his memories for why she looked so familiar. Black hair, pale blue eyes and of south Asian heritage, he couldn't remembered where he saw her face before. Perhaps he killed her relatives, or saw a picture of her briefly in a file before setting off to try killing Steve Rogers.

"Rashmi Ilves, the rest is my business."

An alias undoubtedly, while he recognized the origin or neither first nor last name, he read human behavior well enough to spot a lie. Sure, she was a good liar, and she looked comfortable with the name, so she likely rehearsed it and told it to others several times. Though, he could be wrong. An alias made him more inclined to trust her strangely enough. Assuming that HYDRA pursued her, and that she wasn't an operative, an alias protected her. How long had she been on the run? Was she really on the run?

Still, her utter lack of fear intrigued him. Even with his hand about her neck, and the carnage around them, she willingly stared him down, openly unafraid. She was an interesting woman, with valuable information. That ability of hers to enter someone's mind and take information fascinated him; people had information he needed. She had the skill to get the information from them. Possibly without doing too much damage, if Navalny died from his injuries, not her invasion, that was. Either gathering the information or linking to a dying mind made her nauseous; which didn't stop her from delving into Navalny's. This implied some level of practice with a valuable ability.

She had something he needed, but he couldn't take it from her.

"Tell me, what did Navalny know about the Winter Soldier Project?"

Remaining remarkably calm given the circumstances, she frowned, "what's it to you?"

He tightened his grip, "not your business."

After the squeeze, which broke her façade for a moment, revealing the terror behind it, she told him everything. Several former members of the program lived around New York City, awaiting further orders, which included experimenting on this so called Rashmi Ilves. He refused to dismiss that she might be a HYDRA agent sent to reel him in through some convoluted tactics. Besides, there were not lengths HYDRA would not go to in order to achieve their goal, evening killing Navalny, what happened to him proved that point, if she was a HYDRA agent. This might be a new method to gain his trust and convince him to hurt innocents. When she rattled off a couple address, he swung his other hand into the side of her head, knocking her out.

Once he was sure she was out cold, he swung her over his shoulder and headed for an exit. Before leaving, he grabbed the cuffs the agents had, special ones and wholly unfamiliar, likely intended to contain psychic abilities. Strange, according to SHIELD psychics didn't exist. Unless HYDRA planted that to monopolize potential assets, and keep SHIELD unaware of a small minority who would otherwise be closely watched.

Maybe she was brainwashed too.

He couldn't ignore the possibility. But, he also couldn't disregard the chance that she might be a HYDRA agent: willingly or unwillingly. Thankfully, he planned to let her live long enough for him to determine the validity of her information. If she told the truth, he would let her live. If she lied, he would kill her.

Captain America would approve.

Binding her with the cuffs and he headed to the surface. Somewhere he would hijack a car, but before anyone could see him carrying her. In hindsight knocking her out wasn't the best idea, but letting a potential HYDRA agent with psychic abilities go unchecked was a worse one.

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On the other side of the world, America and Canada followed a back trail to England's house. A familiar, well worn route, one only their family knew.

"Are you sure about this Amy?" Canada led the way through the trees.

Two days ago they raided the Fridge, clearing it all valuable weapons and tech hours before HYDRA showed up. Too close a call for Canada's liking, but America's secret tunnel saved their lives and those of the SHIELD agents working there. Sure, it meant leaving the prisoners unattended and now free, but the other option was unthinkable. He knew America blamed herself, for letting HYDRA infest and rot SHIELD. Because of that, he feared that she might try to fix her mistake.

"It's the only option; he can give it the Isle of Man who can protect it better than anyone else."

The item in question was a three hundred year old silk bag, with a powerful enchantment. Within the beautiful bag rested the entire contents of the Fridge. Since they cleaned the place out, America carried it close, never letting it go and jumping at every sound. England would be able to help them, but only so far. Because of how America handled SHIELD, they only knew her name and identity. That meant HYDRA only knew about her, Germany and Prussia. Which wasn't much, Canada acknowledged, but the situation could be much, much worse.

_What else are you planning Amy? What did Uncle Inuit tell you?_

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A/N: So, what do you think? Feed back and comments always help me flesh out the characters, especially when I'm introducing an OC like Rashmi Ilves. Uncle Inuit isn't that important, it's doubtful that he'll physically appear.


	2. Criticality Assessment

A/N: Barnes and America get their plans in order.  
Also, I rewrote the end bit of Barnes and Rashmi's encounter, so if you've read the older version it'll be a little confusing. You don't have to reread it, it should be easy to work out the changes regardless.

Disclaimer: I think there's one in the prologue.

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It took no time for Barnes to steal a car, and even less to disable the tracking equipment in the GPS. Always his training kept up with new technology, something he hated, but accepted as useful. Who taught him a skill didn't matter, so long as it remained useful. While he had learned to hijack cars in the 1940s, his handlers had showed him much more; he knew enough to make a living as a professional car thief. As his memories reemerged, he struggled to make sense of them. Apparently, situations could prompt them in an annoyingly erratic fashion; thankfully, they had yet to prove overly distracting.

He both wanted and didn't want to remember who he had been. The James Buchannan Barnes of the 40s had no bearing on his life anymore; HYDRA abducted James and morphed him into some stranger. If felt like he inhabited a stranger's body with yet another man's past, the situation left him confused and disoriented. No one defined who he was, just who he had been. Though he preferred it that way, he longed for a helping hand, for someone to hold him steady as he decided who he was. Whoever he was, it wasn't James, at least he thought so. He might be James. He might become the third person to control this body; which felt like his, but like someone else's.

Since he needed a name and didn't feel like adopting a new one, he decided to think of himself as 'Barnes.' Maybe later on he would be comfortable with the idea of thinking of himself as James Barnes, or even 'Bucky'. For now Barnes would do.

The man, Captain America, who he wanted to prove himself to by not killing the girl in the backseat immediately, would be looking for him. According to the Smithsonian exhibit, he and the Captain grew up together, the best of friends who looked out for each other. In the blurb about him, it said that the Captain rescued him from a HYDRA base, and that that act turned him into an active combatant. Despite the fact that something like a sixth sense told him it had happened, he couldn't remember it. Why could he remember stealing cars in World War 2 but nothing about his supposed childhood friend?

Little more than an echo of the bond that must have existed forced him to save the Captain from drowning three days ago. That same echo insisted the exhibit told the truth, that for the first time in far too long he knew the truth, but no memories backed it up. Besides the flashes of memories and the echo, nothing linked him to James Barnes.

The Captain would start searching as soon as the hospital cleared him. That someone cared enough about James to do that touched him, but he had no idea who the Captain would find dwelling in his friend's body. Naturally, the Captain would seek to restore his friend, or at least what remained, and would believe it could be done. The idealist might be right, he might be wrong. Barnes had no idea how he felt about the Captain's intentions. So far as he was concerned, James died the day HYDRA seized him and turned him into the Winter Soldier. Maybe he hadn't, maybe enough of Barnes remained to be reawaken. For all he knew, James would have asked the same questions and made the same choices. Or, maybe he would have tried to contact the Captain already.

After SHIELD fell, and his handlers tumbled with it, he found himself without a mission for the first time since… since the 50s as the Winter Soldier, but also since he had joined the Army in 1942. With no one to guide him anymore, he needed to make his own decisions but had no idea how.

So, when Rashmi rattled off information about scientists involved in the Winter Solider Project, he found a purpose. Rather than wander about aimlessly or find the Captain, he could exact vengeance against the men that used him. With Pierce in captivity, he required different targets. At least for now, he would deal with Pierce later.

Still, what Rashmi told him might be a trap, so he would gather information first. Hacking the people's personnel computers and digging for information would work. With the Stark Tablet he looted of a man in a subway station, and his own knowledge, he wouldn't have trouble. This also allowed him to keep an eye on his captive.

That name, Stark, sounded familiar, but he couldn't tell if it was because he heard it as the Winter Soldier, or carried out missions against the Starks, or because it meant something to James. Could James have known Howard Stark? Could they have been friends? Could the Winter Soldier have killed Howard Stark? Did that mean James' body was used to kill his own friend? Was that why HYDRA repeatedly wiped his memory? If they hadn't, he would have begun uncovering his identity, and would have been aware of who he killed and any personnel connections. Which, naturally, meant he would have refused the missions, even rebelled against his captors. Of course HYDRA wouldn't risk it.

Thinking that he might have killed a man who might have been his friend made him sick. Just the idea of what HYDRA had had him do sent shivers down his body.

No one would do that to him again. Who they were didn't matter, but no one was turning him into a weapon again—never again. From now on if he killed, he did it knowingly and for defense only. Those thoughts sounded James, certainly not the Winter Soldier.

If he was already thinking like James, maybe he should find the Captain, find Steve. Unfortunately, he realized neither the Captain nor Steve would approve of his quest for vengeance. He might try to understand and claim to, but Barnes refused to risk his chance. Until someone reported Navalny's death, HYDRA had no idea he had come to New York. The element of surprise was vital to his half laid plans, and to taking the first scientists unawares. Soon, after the second or third, the others would wise up and protect themselves, or set precautions. Of course, his training would render such basic defenses pointless, and entertainment instead of obstacles. Eventually HYDRA would realize his course and start predicting his movements, maybe a week or two from now.

Then he would need help.

Unless Rashmi turned out to be a HYDRA agent and the scientist some random unfortunate person, or even an enemy of HYDRA, his estimations would hold true. Though, HYDRA might hunt her and then plant the information in Navalny's mind knowing that she can access it.

Then again, that took a larger leap of faith than he associated with HYDRA. That plan hinged on him finding her, and deciding to stalk people involved in the Winter Soldier Project. No, it had to be simpler than that.

Perhaps he could get information from her now that she showed signs of waking up. Somehow he could distinguish between people waking up and those pretending that they hadn't been awake for a while, but he realized she wasn't act. The sudden onset of panicked movements and whispers in some South Asian language convinced him that she just woke up. While he felt certain she had just woken up, he struggled to determine if the handcuffs held her powers back or not. If she was HYDRA then it could be an act. For a HYDRA agent to willingly handicap themselves like that made no sense, it put them at his mercy. HYDRA agents might be stupid, but they weren't complete morons.

Apart from what he knew about her, the tech she carried intrigued him. In her jacket he found a wallet with two hundred in cash, out dated credit and bank cards, and an Indian passport. The names on the cards and passport didn't match each other or the one she gave him. Thankfully, he could use her cash to buy gas and food. What caught his attention was her cell phone. The phone wasn't any kind on sale, or of any design he knew. It wasn't a Stark phone, or any kind of tech HYDRA or SHIELD might use; it wasn't government issue either. Like all phones it had a logo on the top, something called Mercury Electronics. Despite the vast depth of knowledge left over from his days as the Winter Soldier, he had never heard of it. Maybe it was a small tech start up or something. The new tech added another dimension to his captive, something more than her powers.

So far as he knew her powers included telekinesis and some form of telepathy. Though that alone made her valuable to HYDRA, he assumed her abilities had more uses than she had shown him. Mulling it over, he knew about her powers, an alias, connections to some company, and that she came from the Indian subcontinent. Regardless of not knowing how he could tell, he accepted the analysis. The language sounded dissimilar from other regions and her skin tone fit, but the lighter tint suggested a European parent or grandparent. Surely the Winter Soldier dealt with people from the subcontinent all the time, but James never met one before.

James had once known a Japanese man, had considered him a friend. What was his name? Something that started with a J… Jim? Jim… Jim Jones? No, no, no… Jim had had a Japanese last name. Jim Morita, that was his name, a man from the Howling Commandos, who once taught them all some Japanese, with a fantastic sense of humor. Barnes delighted in remembering that much about Jim. Unfortunately the rest of the Commandos remained a list of names he learned at the Smithsonian, vague ideas but nothing more, not even their faces. Barnes had liked Jim; they had gotten on like a house on fire. Their jokes and pranks caused the Captain no end of trouble and amusement. Often they teamed up with someone else, but Barnes struggled to remember anything about them.

"At least one us is happy," Rashmi's sarcastic tone surprised him, but he wondered why. "Let me go."

That she had the audacity to use that tone with him impressed him. Others that he had kidnapped begged for freedom or threatened him, but none tried ordering him about. A brave lady, it reminded him of someone he knew once, but her name escaped him.

"Sorry girl, I can't do that."

The look on her face made calling her 'girl' worth it. From the mirror he watched her try to concentrate, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper; his breath caught when a wobbling knife rose an inch into the air. Until know he hadn't witnessed her telekinesis directly; the knife dropped, her head rocking back as she gasped in pain and lost her concentration. No, the look on her face couldn't be faked; both Barnes and the Winter Soldier knew that. Either her abilities had limited usage, or the handcuffs worked. A pang of something, sympathy, almost made him regret putting those on her. Just wearing them must hurt her.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To see if you're right," he smirked at her confusion. "Don't worry doll face, we'll get breakfast first."

She rolled her eyes, "Doll face? What, are you from the 40s?"

Perhaps HYDRA couldn't steal some things from him, or James slowly woke up and reclaimed control of his body. Of course, he would keep his identity and whatnot a secret until he determined her trustworthiness.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Someone with a grudge against HYDRA."

For some reason her sigh of exasperation amused him, "I gathered that much already. What's your name?"

Either she was a HYDRA agent and already knew, or she wasn't and had no idea who he was. Though, given the display in the Smithsonian she had to think he looked familiar, he wouldn't be surprised if his face was in text books. Unless she grew up outside the USA, which made sense since she carried an Indian passport.

Perhaps he should remove the handcuffs, dump her on the side of the road and leave her behind. Unfortunately, the Captain would be aghast if he did that, and even though the Captain had no idea what was going on, Barnes had to keep her. Besides, if she wasn't HYDRA he was protecting her from them.

Underneath it all he feared loneliness; not that he admitted it to himself. So long as he kept her with him, he had someone to make sure he didn't hurt anyone unnecessarily. Whatever plans she had could be put on hold; high tech phone or not, she was on the run. Until he found a new purpose he needed to invent one; so he took care of her. Looking after her provided him with a sense of familiarity, something reminiscent of his past to ground him. The scrawny kid he once took care of no longer needed him, and Barnes didn't want the Captain to see him like this. Surely the Captain had enough on his hands without him adding to the burden. Besides, he needed to decide for himself who he was. The young woman in the back seat, Rashmi Ilves, knew nothing about him, and he liked it that way.

Glancing back, he said, "Call me Barnes."

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Without a second though England ushered his former colonies into the house and through to his kitchen, their sudden appearance and worn look worried him. After all SHIELD's information leaked on the internet and the rotten HYDRA core exposed, Nations had been calling for days. Each of them demanded to know what had happened, how, and how SHIELD got the plethora of information on their governments and secrets they had assumed were secret. Thankfully nothing in the torrent exposed the Nations, or even the three identities SHIELD had known of. When a call came he fielded it as best he could; Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland helped him handle the volume. Just when the flurry died down another began because no one could reach America. In trying to locate her, he discovered that Canada had vanished too.

Once his brothers took over handling the calls, England devoted his time to digging through the data for himself. While he hadn't been involved in SHIELD since 1952, he remembered how it all worked. Unlike the others he recognized America's involvement. The sheer scope and volume of what she had participated in floored him. Never had he imagined that the cheerful girl he raised could be so deeply involved in such morally vague business. Looking over it he reevaluated everything he knew about her and found himself struggling to understand her.

One thing he felt sure about, and which worried him to no end, was that she tended to think of herself as responsible for things that happened because of her agencies. Unlike most Nations she struggled to set herself apart from her government and agencies. That meant that wherever she was, she was doing something to deal with a mess she felt responsible for. Belief that Canada was with her kept him from panicking, it wasn't much but it was something.

Nothing prepared him for them turning up on his back doorstep the third night after SHIELD fell. The pair looked exhausted, and he could only guess what they'd been up to. Dismissing the mess they left in their wake as unimportant, he ushered them into the kitchen. A glare kept them from talking as he prepared cups of hot chocolate, not the everyday stuff, but a box of expensive stuff Switzerland gave him for his birthday once. Thankfully his brothers hadn't found it. Northern Ireland loved hot chocolate.

After they wolfed down the reheated Sheppard's Pie, he set the hot chocolate before them. He relaxed in seeing that they had perked up.

"Now, where the bloody hell have you two been?" Instead of yelling, he kept his voice steady and even, much as he had when scolding them as children. Not that it worked much on America, but the poor girl looked dead on her feet.

"Robbing the Fridge," America sipped her hot chocolate, gripping her mug tightly, but he could see how badly her hands trembled.

Sure he knew she tended to assume responsibility for things, but this crossed the line. That Canada accompanied her instead of talking her out of it enraged him. The boy was supposed to be the responsible sibling. Still, he kept his temper in check, glaring at Canada opposed to yelling like he wanted to.

Thanks to the leaked files he knew what the Fridge was, where it was, and what it housed. However, he wondered where she put the contents. Then he spotted the silk bag she had put on the table, one he originally dismissed. Quickly he scanned it for magical traces; he discovered powerful charms with his magical signature and recognized their purpose.

"Why'd you bring it here?" He gave the bag a pointed look.

Canada beat his sister to answering, "We're just stopping over on the way to see the Isle of Man. We're hoping that she can hid it away for us."

"You'll be placing her in harm's way," he pointed out. While he understood her motivations, he would try talking her out of it. The Isle of Man (Ellan Vannin in her language), his elder sister, was a small Nation with few resources and reliant on him for protection.

To his surprise America burst out laughing. "Dude, that's the safest place on Earth for it. She's the best magic user on Earth, if anyone can protect it she can. Give her some credit Iggy."

Growing up he admired his sister's power; once the center of magic in the British Isles, much of it lingered into the age of technology and science. Of all his relationships with his siblings, he regretted the problems he caused for her the most. Perhaps she would have been better if he had left her in Scotland's care until their countries united. Regardless, unless Scotland had maintained his independence, she would have ended up as his responsibility no matter what. Unlike the rest of them, she treated him kindly despite the pain he caused her. When no one else in the family wanted him around she visited him; she looked after him and nursed him through his worst bouts of depression.

England had grown ruthlessly protective of her.

Of course, that meant he forgot how capable she was against human opponents. Unfortunately America had a point; no one would suspect that Ellan protected the contents of the Fridge. As the least eye catching of his siblings Ellan enjoyed a higher level of privacy than many Nations. England loved his sister and didn't want to see her involved.

Though, if he refused to ask her opinion, she would be furious, she might turn him into something. At the very least she would express her extreme displeasure. Sure, she supported him more than the others ever had, but she never failed to communicate it when he missteped.

"Get some rest, we'll go see her in the morning."

To his annoyance America shook her head, catching Canada off guard too.

"No, I'll go alone. Mattie, you're staying here too."

"Like hell I am."

"Mattie," America whispered, "HYDRA knows my name, my face, everything they need to hunt me down. The less time…"

Much like America, Canada had a stubborn streak a galaxy wide. Nothing she could say would convince him, but she was just as unlikely to stop trying too. Sometimes raising the pair had been a nightmare.

Thinking to diffuse the pending fight between exhausted Nations with frayed tempers, England pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair as he had to calm her down after a nightmare when she was a child. Naturally she struggled and protested, but he shushed her, muttering a sleeping spell under his breath and wrapping it around her. She relaxed immediately; exhaustion, the spell, and the sleeping pills he put in her hot chocolate, wore her down. Even as a child she required extra effort to put to sleep. With a small smile, Canada looked on as England lulled her to sleep with her favorite lullaby. Soon as she fell asleep England carried her to a spare bedroom, Canada on his heels with the silk bag. After he tucked her into bed, Canada folded the bag into her hand; both of them knew that if she woke without it she would panic.

By this point the sleeping pills he put in Canada's drink took affect too. The other Nation tried to glare him but fell asleep before he could try; England deftly caught him and tucked him into the room's other bed.

Come tomorrow they would solve the pressing issues, but he had no hope of stopping her. Sometimes he wondered if he raised her wrong, but he hadn't. Instead, somehow, he had brought up an infinitely more stubborn female version of himself.

In the kitchen he found Scotland sitting at the table.

"What are the bairns doing here so late?"

England told the over grown red head everything, what little he knew anyway.

Shaking his head, Scotland chuckled, "the lassie's always been smatter than ye give her credit fer. She's got a sound plan for the Fridge, the best anyone could of come up with."

"She's so young."

"Nay, she's fully grown. Support her, help her, but dinnea stop her. Ye cannea, and ye ken it. Let the lass do her thing, she's never been one to let events pass her by, she's a lot like ye once were."

"She could get herself killed, or worse."

"Aye, and she kens that too. She's got a good head, she'll survive. Ye 'ave a right tae worry about her. But dinnea stop her."

Realizing he couldn't convince his brother to help him stop America, he sagged into his chair. "I don't know what I'll do if something happens to her."

"None o' us do, but she wouldnea be her if she dinnea try."

"You're ri…you're not wrong." Never, no matter the circumstances would he admit Scotland was right about anything.

Before he went to bed he spotted Scotland adding another blanket to the twin's beds. They might fight more often than not, but Scotland always had a soft spot for the former colonies.

(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)

Everything that had happened was her fault. Soon as news about SHIELD reached her, as soon as her blindness washed onto the internet for the whole world to see, America made up her mind. SHIELD rotted from the inside out because of her. Sure, it had never been perfect, but it had done so much good too. Countless conflicts defused and calmed down before war hit, or more people died. Decades of good deeds, perhaps not the best methods, but SHIELD looked after the world, cared for it, and protected it from itself. That rush of excitement she felt every time she entered the HQ now felt mocking. Bitterness at her own shortsightedness swept away the good in her memories, suddenly seeing HYDRA agents lurking in every corner, at every happy moment.

She recalled sitting with Peggy Carter and Howard Stark and toasting a mission well done, a new feat accomplished, another hundred lives saved. She missed Howard, and wished Peggy wasn't losing her mind. Right now she needed to sit down with them and come with some kind of a plan. Loneliness swept over her, and fears of failure threatened to suffocate her.

As the only living, and still sane, member of the original group that formed SHIELD she considered the debacle her fault. If she had been more observant, more aware; if she had taken an active role in recruitment and overseen the transition when agents returned to duty after injuries, then this wouldn't have happened. Even with her already large work load she would have been able to handle it. Of course she could have, she could do anything she wanted.

Except, apparently, prevent traitors from destroying her prized organization.

Standing on England's porch watching the sun rise she could feel the eyes of the thousands she failed watching her. Another day, another battle, but she would stay strong. Whatever came in the coming days, weeks and months she would find a way to remain strong. No one else had the strength to carry her burden, no matter what they might think, this was her fight and hers alone. Of course she would accept help when offered, or ask for it when she couldn't be in two places at once; she wasn't a fool. Besides, letting them help would keep them calm.

"As rainy as it gets here, at least the sunrises are pretty," Canada leaned against the railing next to her.

America smiled, "not as pretty as the ones we watched with Onhula."

"Don't tell England that."

Still smiling, she snorted, "too late, I told him so years ago."

"You never did have any tact."

A comfortable silence lapsed between them, each enjoying the moment of peace. Both knew that soon events could start snowballing, running out of control. Wherever the eye of the storm brewed, America would be there. Only from there could she hope to retain some level of control. She admitted that that lay at the heart of her reasoning to rob the Fridge, because it allowed her to exercise some level of control. Plus, it kept the weapons and artifacts out of HYDRA's hands. She was pretty sure some of them were things England and his siblings, or Norway and Romania, enchanted and forgot about hundreds of years ago. Obviously HYDRA would strike the Fridge as soon as possible, perhaps they already had. For her own amusement, after evacuating the personnel and sending them to an old base in the Cascadian Mountains, she stuck a note to the front door:

Better luck next time traitors.

A childish move, but mocking people angered them. Angry people made more mistakes.

Aside from that she struggled for formulate any kind of a plan. After they dropped off the Fridge contents with the Isle of Man, she had no idea where to go, or what to do. Things would be easier if Fury contacted her.

Fury…

Coulson? Several months after he supposedly died she learned his fate; she finally forced Fury to admit it to her. What she discovered appalled her. For the first time since Fury assumed the position of Director she questioned his appointment. Sometimes she agreed with his methods and acknowledged it when the ends justified the means. But Fury tried playing God, and succeeded. No one, not her, not Fury, not Angela Merkel, deserved that kind of power. Naturally, she kept a close eye on the facility where Fury ordered scientists to bring Coulson back to life. She celebrated when the Guesthouse collapsed in on itself, the gruesome methods lost to all who sought then.

Yeah, when she finished here she'd call Fury and demand Coulson's whereabouts.

She liked having a plan, it reassured her in ways nothing else could. Already more started germinating, ideas about enlisting Stark, Rogers, Romanov, Barton, Hill, Banner, and so many others. Perhaps she wasn't as alone as she thought.

"You've got that look again. What's the plan?"

Sending him a grin, "We deposit the Fridge contents with Ellan, then I go find Coulson."

"Coulson?" he frowned, "But isn't he…never mind. We need to talk about your keeping secrets."

"Later, when this is over."

He snorted in disbelief. "So, you go find mister-should-be-dead, and what do I do?"

"Go home."

"We've had this conversation four times now. Let's not repeat ourselves."

"Mattie…"

Whirling, he grabbed her, forcing her to face him, "Don't try it on me anikatiga. What do you take me for?"

"That's not…"

Again he interrupted her, "yes it is."

Her mind scrambled, trying to find some way of getting him to agree with her. Before she knew it words flew from her mouth, "I need you to pretend to be me."

* * *

A/N:Forewarning, some of these chapters are going to get LONG. More characters will be appearing shortly, either the next chapter or the one after.

I hate to beg, but please comment. Questions? Concerns? Bribery? Threats? Falafel?

More characters will join the cast tomorrow, each with a different agenda.

Translations:

anikatiga-Inuit for 'my sibling,' at least among tribes in Alaska.

Isle of Man (formerly Isle of Avalon)- Ellan Vannin, commonly referred to as Ellan. (because I don't feel like typing out Isle of Man every time I mention her). The history of the Isle of Man is fascinating, go check it out.


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